Crisis of Identity

Janice Earl is battling the LDS church, alleging officials tried to
cover up
a sexual assault on her daughter, Lynette

Salt Lake City Weekly/March 8, 2001

Janice Earl doesn't look like a warrior woman. Standing just 5-feet
tall and
weighing under 100 pounds, this 50-year-old grandmother couldn't flex a
tricep muscle if she tried. But looks can be deceiving. When it comes
to the
interests of her children, Janice will slay dragons if she has to.

For the past nine years she has pursued a tenacious fight to find
justice
for her daughter, who says she was sexually assaulted at the age of
seven.

Though no criminal charges have been filed, Janice, her husband and her
daughter have become plaintiffs in a lawsuit against the most powerful
entity in the state, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
For the first time in a child sexual abuse case against the church, the
Utah
Supreme Court has agreed to hear arguments to determine whether the
Earls
have a valid complaint.

Besides the Mormon church, other defendants
include
former Bishop Dennis Casaday and former Stake President David
Christensen.
The Taylorsville neighborhood where Janice and Ralph Earl raised their
three
children can be described in the generic terms that apply to nearly all
Utah
suburbs. Mostly Mormon families clustered into tight knit wards. Rows
of
houses sit amid landscaped lawns. A basketball hoop dominates every
other
driveway and 'Big Wheels' tricycles are strewn across sidewalks.

Children of
various ages are outside burning up energy until the very last minute
of
sunlight. Everyone knows everyone else. It looks like a friendly and
safe
picture-perfect place for families. But looks can be deceiving.

For years the Earls enjoyed a position at the top of their local Mormon
social ladder, with Ralph serving as first councilor in the ward
bishopric.

Second only to the bishop, Ralph was expected to take the lead reins
when
Bishop Casaday eventually moved up the ecclesiastical ladder. Though
the
Earls had only three children, Janice was a model Mormon wife, who
stayed
home to raise and nurture the children and to help her ward members in
times
of need.

Janice felt secure, always knowing where her children were and
making them check in while they were out playing. "There's an
unconditional
trust among Mormons," she says. "You call each other 'brother' and
'sister'
and raise your kids in an all Mormon neighborhood and think no one will
harm
them."

However, the facade was shattered when Janice got a phone call nine
years
ago from her then 14-year-old daughter's school counselor. "He said
that he
and Lynette wanted to talk to me and, because of the nature of it, they
thought it should just be me without her dad," she says. "I thought,
'This
feels bad,' and once there, the minute Lynette said, Jason Strong, I
knew.
It fit like a puzzle."

There had been signs, but they were only recognizable with the benefit
of
hindsight. For months, Lynette hadn't been sleeping, so a doctor
prescribed
sleeping pills. She'd wake up with nightmares and have anxiety attacks
during the day. Her grades were plummeting.

The story that unfolded in the counselor's office confirmed Janice's
worst
fears. Lynette alleged she had been sexually assaulted seven years
earlier
by a neighborhood boy who was then 14. "I sat there blown away. Blown
to the
wall," she says. "The counselor was a Mormon, too, and he talked about
my
husband's position and the Strong family and said to just take Lynette
home
and love her and she'd be fine."

Neither Jason Strong, members of the Strong family, nor their attorney
have
ever admitted any wrongdoing. The Strongs' attorney, Kyle W. Jones,
said
neither he nor his clients would comment for this story. The
allegations,
however, are a matter of court record.

The school counselor was just one in a long line of Mormon men who did
not
report the alleged sexual abuse of a child. The first may have been the
pediatrician who saw Lynette soon after the alleged assault, when she
was 7.
"That's how I know exactly when it was. Lynette started screaming
whenever
she urinated. I didn't know what was wrong and I took her to the
doctor,"
Janice says. "Our own pediatrician was gone, so another one gave us
some
cream and that was it. He didn't say anything and just looked at me
funny,
mentioning that he knew our family was a prominent Mormon family."

Janice still had the tube of cream when her daughter revealed her story
seven years later. "I took it back to our own pediatrician and asked
about
it," she says. "He told me it was for yeast and said, 'No 7-year-old
has
yeast.' Why didn't that other pediatrician do the appropriate thing?"

Devastated by the revelation, Janice did what most Mormons do-she
turned to
her bishop. "I wanted therapy for Lynette and I wanted the perpetrator
to be
reported and have counseling," says Janice. "Bishop Casaday said that
if we
reported it, my husband would be taken out of the bishopric." Janice
was
told that she should forgive and forget. As to her request for therapy,
she
and Lynette were told to make an appointment with Paul Browning at the
Bountiful Health Center.

"The bishop said, 'He's the perfect man for
you.'"
After meeting with Lynette for 20 minutes, Browning called Janice and
Ralph
into his office. "He said, 'Your daughter doesn't want to go to the
temple,'" remembers Janice. "I said, 'That's not the problem right now.
What
does this have to do with sexual abuse?'"

For seven months the family continued to visit Browning for therapy in
spite
of his unusual techniques. He told her that he'd had lunch with her
stake
president and they had talked about her. She and Lynette were
admonished to
forgive and forget and told repeatedly that they should not report the
young
man to the police. "He made me feel terrible, always saying, 'What kind
of
Mormon are you that you want to punish this boy? Do you want to ruin
his
life?'" says Janice. "I had 'forgive and forget' constantly thrown at
me by
all those church men. It was used as a weapon against me and as a way
to
sweep everything under the rug."

Former Bishop Casaday and former Stake President David Christensen
denied
comment for this story through their attorney, Randy Austin at the law
firm
of Kirton and McConkie.

Marian Smith, former director and co-founder of the Intermountain
Specialized Abuse Treatment Center, co-authored the book Healing From
Sexual
Abuse in Mormon Neighborhoods. Smith says placing guilt on victims and
their
families with a forgiveness mandate for the perpetrator is a common
tactic.

She cites the November 2000 Jay Toombs case as a classic example.
In that Logan, Utah, case, Toombs pleaded guilty to molesting several
boys
and was charged with three first-degree felony counts for aggravated
sexual
abuse of a child.

The case revealed that over the years, three Mormon
bishops and a stake president had known of the abuse but never reported
Toombs to the police. Toombs went on to molest other boys. "People had
complained to their bishops for years about Toombs," says Smith. "They
were
told to forgive and at least one mother was given priesthood blessings
telling her that it was her special calling to forgive him."

Browning's recriminations compounded Lynette's suffering, Janice
believes.
During her ninth grade year she began falling apart. "I was having to
pick
her up from school in the middle of the day. It got so I was grateful
for a
D grade just so she could pass a class," says Janice. "I had to hold
her
most of the night while she clung to me. Then I'd go in the living room
and
weep after she fell asleep."

Finally the school counselor recommended that they see another
therapist.
Their new therapist, Deborah Christensen, was appalled that the alleged
assault had not been reported and said that by law she would have to
report
it within 72 hours. "She got the phone book and reported it right then
and
there," says Janice. "I knew certain people would be pissed, but I
didn't
think it would be like an atomic bomb."

But eight years after the alleged assault, there was scant physical
evidence
to press criminal charges, law enforcement authorities told the Earls.
Deborah Christensen also made an observation that Janice couldn't
shake.
"She said, 'It's difficult to imagine that a licensed therapist would
say
the kinds of things he did.'" Janice had always thought it strange that
Browning billed her through his associate, Craig Berhold.

With her
suspicions roused, she called the state Division of Occupational and
Professional Licensing about Browning's credentials. "I wasn't prepared
for
what I found out," she says. "He wasn't a social worker of any kind.
They
said he wasn't licensed to do anything in the state of Utah."

During the next therapy session, Janice and Lynette learned that their
bishop had called the new therapist after she reported the perpetrator
to
the police. "She told us that he said, 'You have no idea what you did,
you
ruined this young man's life. It was wrong of you to do that.'" If the
therapist was shocked at the bishop's behavior, she was even more so by
Janice's news about Paul Browning's career as an unlicensed therapist.

For
25 years he had been well known in social work circles in the state.
In 1994 Janice took both Browning and Berhold to court, resulting in
the
termination of Browning's practice. The Earls were awarded $4,000. It
was a
minuscule amount compared to the $76,000 in therapy bills they had
racked up
in that first year alone.

Today, Paul Browning is the director of
religion
at the LDS Institute at the University of Utah. In an interview with
City
Weekly, Browning maintained that he did nothing wrong. "I was
practicing
under the supervision of Craig Berhold and had permission from the
Division
of Occupational and Professional Licensing," he said.

A spokesman for the division said it would never allow a therapist to
practice without a license. For his part, Berhold said he had no
comment.
Back in the neighborhood, Lynette was being called a "whore" and "slut"
by
other kids. The Earl family was socially ostracized, Janice remembers
grimly. "With my husband still in the bishopric, I had to look like
everything was alright," she says. "My face had to be smiling. I did a
very
good job."

Sitting in church, the Earls would watch the Strong boy bless the
sacrament-a weekly ordinance sacred to Mormons and reserved for those
who
are worthy. "One of the reasons we wanted the bishop to know [about the
alleged assault] was to protect other children," says Janice. "It was
shocking. We were so naive about how this would be handled."

Marian Smith has seen the same scenario played out in numerous other
cases.
"It's very common for ward members to close ranks around perpetrators
and
ostracize families of victims," she says. "It's terribly threatening
for
people to have one of their own revealed."

By the end of that year, Ralph Earl was being released from the
bishopric.
However, Janice was told that the stake president wanted to speak with
her
before the release was formalized. She dutifully went to meet with him
in
his office. "President Christensen said to me, 'You know why this
happened
to Lynette don't you?' Then he went on and said, 'The reason it
happened is
because she's so beautiful.'"

The statement said volumes for Janice.
"The
stake president was blaming Lynette as well as sexualizing her
himself."
In therapy, Janice and Lynette were instructed to write a letter to
Bishop
Casaday as part of their healing process.

"Lynette's letter was so
heartfelt
and she wanted him to have it. The therapist agreed, so I delivered it
to
him," says Janice. "That night he called Lynette and ripped her apart
over
the phone. She was so upset that we were back in the therapist's office
the
next day to put her back together."

Bishop Casaday and President Christensen had constantly told Lynette
that
the young man had been forgiven. "He was treated normally while my
whole
life had changed. I was turned into an outcast in my own neighborhood,"
Lynette says. "Forgiveness for him was pounded into me. How in the hell
can
I forgive?"

Janice was feeling sure that if her daughter's case was being treated
inappropriately, then surely others like it must be as well. "I thought
this
can't be the rule, it has to be the exception," she says. "But no. I
learned
this is the rule. It's just the way it's done."

She felt strongly that the church needed to step out of the process and
let
professionals and police officials handle child sexual abuse cases.
Most of
all, she desperately needed to find justice for Lynette. She concluded
that
a lawsuit was the only solution. "It became my full-time job. I went to
over
50 attorneys with this case and they all turned me down," she laughs.
"I was
the queen of turn-me-down."

As it happened, she and Ralph began the process of closing their family
business, a franchise of Snap-On Tools Inc., with the help of an
out-of-state friend. The friend recommended a law firm in Tulsa, Okla.

After
four months of studying the case, Gary Richardson and Lance Houghtling
decided to take it on a contingency fee (attorney fees come out of
money
awarded from a favorable ruling). The only catch was that they had to
locate
a member of the Utah State Bar to sponsor them. Finding a sponsoring
attorney proved as hard for the Oklahoma attorneys as it had been for
Janice. After an exhausting two-year search, the attorneys decided to
send
just one more inquiry.

Ed Montgomery happened to be visiting a friend, who was the recipient
of
this last effort from Oklahoma. He noticed the complaint sitting in his
friend's office and asked about it. After reading it, Montgomery
decided to
offer himself as the sponsoring attorney. A Mormon himself, Montgomery
admits to his optimistic naivete when he first took on the case. "I
really
believed in the back of my mind that the church would recognize that
Lynette
suffered harm and at least offer a hand of assistance. I really
believed
it," he says. "But no. Nothing for her. Yet they do whatever they can
to
help this perpetrator and make sure he's safe and protected."

Two years ago, after a year of waiting for a court date, the case was
finally considered by Third District Judge J. Dennis Frederick. The
judge
rejected the Earls' claims against the LDS church. An attorney from the
firm
of Kirton and McConkie, representing the church, maintained in court
that
there was no basis for accusations because any claim of clergy
malpractice
would be an unconstitutional infringement of the boundary of church and
state.

Citing the First Amendment in an effort to protect clergy behavior in
child
sexual abuse cases is not new for the LDS church. In the fall of 1995,
the
Catholic church petitioned the Texas Supreme Court to hold that the
First
Amendment requires that churches be granted immunity against civil
suits
involving sexual abuse of children by Catholic priests. In December
1995,
the LDS church signed a "friend of the court" brief supporting the
Catholic
church's position. In a number of cases the Mormon church has worked to
shield clergy. The latest case occurred in February of this year when
the
LDS church filed an emergency appeal with the Oregon Supreme Court to
stop a
judge's order that the church release internal records regarding prior
knowledge of a sexual predator.

Montgomery remains incredulous at the lower court's ruling in Lynette's
case. "The essence of Judge Frederick's ruling was that the church is
immune. Their attorney's brief maintains that whatever happens behind
church
doors is no one's business," says Montgomery. "In any other
relationship or
institution where there is this kind of power imbalance, this wouldn't
be a
question."

Lynette's attorney has appealed to the Utah Supreme Court, hoping to
get the
case remanded to the lower court for a jury trial. In the complaint,
Montgomery and the Tulsa attorneys allege fraud, breach of fiduciary
duty,
gross negligence, negligent infliction of emotional distress and
intentional
infliction of emotional distress. If the court agrees with the Earls,
it
could open the door to other complaints, giving courts the right to
judge
the actions of religious officials.

"Usually this would have gone to the Court of Appeals but the Supreme
Court
decided to hear it," says Montgomery. "We just want the opportunity to
present the facts of this case to a jury, but so far we've been denied
the
opportunity to do so."

Attorneys involved in the case at Kirton and McConkie refused to answer
questions concerning this story because the case is in litigation.
LDS spokesman Dale Bills would not answer questions for the same
reason.

City Weekly asked Bills if church officials would answer general
questions
regarding child sexual abuse in the Mormon church. (See "10 Questions
the
LDS Church Won't Answer" and "The Response From the LDS Church.")

The LDS church's General Handbook of Instructions to priesthood leaders
on
the subject of child sexual abuse is addressed briefly. "They have a
handbook that they clearly don't follow that was drafted to offer them
another layer of legal protection," says Montgomery. "The church hasn't
done
anything but abuse Lynette and side with the perpetrator.

It's clear
evidence to me that they don't care and I have another case just like
it."
The church also has a help line available to Mormon leaders who may be
faced
with the issue of child sexual abuse, and has distributed a training
video
to bishops in North America and Canada. According to Lavina Fielding
Anderson, co-editor of the 1996 volume Case Reports Of The Mormon
Alliance,
which covered child sexual abuse in the Mormon church, the help line is
more
self-serving than victim-friendly.

"I was told by one bishop who called
the
help line that they walked him through procedure on how to get a
commitment
from the parents of the victim not to sue the church," she says. "The
video
came with a letter instructing bishops not to view it unless or until a
problem did in fact arise."

Fielding Anderson also finds it interesting that the video is only
distributed in the relatively litigious countries of North America and
Canada. "Do they believe that there isn't child sexual abuse in other
countries?"

Lynette found it impossible to live in her childhood neighborhood. "I
made
the decision and purposely became pregnant by my boyfriend at the age
of
16," she says. "It was my way out."

The Earls gave Lynette a beautiful and lavish wedding to which she
requested
that no one from the ward be invited. "Rumors got back to us that the
reason
no one was invited was because we were ashamed of Lynette," says
Janice. "We
have never been ashamed of our daughter. It amazes me how they make up
this
garbage to fit their view."

Today, at 23, Lynette remains happily married.
Janice and Ralph built their home themselves and had the mortgage
nearly
paid, but they finally gave up trying to maintain a normal life in
their
neighborhood. They recently sold their house and moved out of the area.

"I
thought after all the years of help we gave to others in our ward in
their
times of need that when our time of need came they would be there,"
says
Janice. "No one was. You don't know what it means to take this on. You
become friendless and family-less."

The Earls saw all the men involved move to higher church positions.
Janice
says she can't have anything to do with a church that lies about how it
helps children. For her part, Lynette has no desire for any religion in
her
life.

Armed with the aid of courageous attorneys, Janice knows she's still in
for
a long road ahead. "I didn't know I had this in me but my feeling is,
just
don't mess with my children." she says. "It's so simple what I wanted
for
Lynette. It should have been so simple. If only the church would have
followed the law."

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